Life's A Mess
by RhiannonNymph
Summary: Tag to 4.20 'The Rapture'. Poor Dean is all alone again. Life is looking pretty bleak, and he can't even count on an angel anymore. Rated for language
1. Dean

**DISCLAIMER: **I still don't own anything and am still poor and not getting any richer writing this. I do it for love. =D

**SPOILERS: **4.20 'The Rapture' - just so awesome. Made me love Misha even more.

**A/N: **Rated for language. And also, this uh, might be kind of depressing. But, um, suck it up? Lol. No really, enjoy it.

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**LIFE'S A MESS**

Dean had swiped a bottle of Jack Daniels from Bobby's cabinet and taken to wandering through the junkyard. It was still dark out, stars still glittered overhead, hell, there were even crickets chirping somewhere. Rusted piles of crap and cars and more crap towered around him, they made him feel small, weary and totally insignificant. He was dragging his boots through dirt and gravel, and every now and then he'd viciously kick any random piece of something-or-other that dared show up in his path.

Dean needed to be away from the house. He couldn't take listening to Sam screaming anymore. It had been muffled by iron, but he'd still heard it. He could still imagine his baby brother banging against the cast iron door, begging, demanding to be let out. It was giving him a fucking heartache.

So he was out in the night, clear on the other side of the junkyard, liquor in hand. He felt like a real winner.

He found a spot on the very outside edge of the yard and settled down in the dirt. He pushed his back against a dirty old tire rim, still on a car but without an actual tire - and took a swig from the bottle.

Dean didn't think he would ever experience anything scarier than the first moments after he realized how utterly alone he was. The moment after - when he finally got how complete and unalterable that truth was. True enough to bypass being a feeling altogether. True enough to become a rock hard pain in his chest.

The feeling hadn't always been that way. Before, it had been manageable. He'd been able to forget about it at times. It had started as a pinprick somewhere in the bottom of his stomach, after Hell, after all Sam's lies. Then Alastair punched a fist through that tiny pinprick, because Dean wasn't all there anyway, and then it got worse. So much worse.

It became a sickening numbness that twisted it way through his stomach, ballooning into his chest. But it didn't stop there. Oh, no. It inched its way up his throat, constricting and painful, until it just exploded into his mind. It started ripping through memories and destroying any stray hopeful thought he might have. It took a shredder to his dreams and wishes and then, for good measure, it dug in it's claws and started squeezing.

And the only thought that escaped the rampaging aloneness? _How am I still breathing? _Because he really didn't know.

It seemed to Dean, that at some point his life had become a waste. That he was only on Earth to breathe someone else's air.

Dean was so lost, and so over it.

He was so screwed.

His brother was an addict, his angel was back to his old, dick-tacular self and Dean was just so beyond ready to sit back and welcome the end of existence.

When Dean had said he didn't care, that he was just so fucking tired, he meant it. There was nothing left. It wasn't so much about being tired as it was about being… empty. He didn't have anything more to give; he didn't have any fight left. He was desperate _all the time_. He woke up sad and hollow, he went through the motions - ate, smiled, killed evil - and then he went to bed feeling strained and even less whole than when he'd woken.

He wasn't himself anymore. He couldn't remember how it felt to smile a real smile. Or how to make a joke for any reason other than to ease the tension and hide his discomfort. He couldn't forget all the things he'd done wrong, and he couldn't seem to do anything right.

He wanted out. Out of everything - the war, this messed up life… his family. How was he supposed to look at Sam now? Sam with the demon blood smeared across his face.

Dean's outlook was so bleak, so tarnished; he just wanted to end it all. He really did. Everyday he lost a little more of who he thought he was, of who he thought he was supposed to be. Everyday was a little darker, a little more painful; everyday he sank a little deeper into despair. Someone was going to be dead by the end of this war. Him or Sam. That much he was certain of.

Somewhere, deep down in the darkness, is where what was left of Dean's soul was. And he didn't now how to get to it, how to pull it all back together, or if he even wanted to try. Things would be so much easier if he could just not give two shits.

And all of it was only made worse by the fact that Cas was holding out on him. The angel knew something, something big, even Anna said so, and he'd wanted to tell Dean. But now? Now Cas '_didn't serve_' him. Whatever the hell that was supposed to mean, because Dean hadn't ever thought Cas was at his beck and call. He didn't expect to get a straight answer to anything he asked, and he really didn't expect to get much help from the angels, so why Cas was being a jackass, Dean had no idea.

Whatever the reason Castiel had been taken, whoever took him… Dean could only guess. And he could only guess at what they did to Cas to make the angel look at Dean the way he had. Like Dean was nothing.

And it stung, more than it should have. He should never have gotten used to Castiel. Shouldn't have started to think _hey, maybe this angel is cool. Maybe he's really in it to help._

Sucker.

Dean felt used. He looked up into the sky, at all the stars and he couldn't fathom how, in the whole entire universe, so much bad shit could happen to one person. He couldn't even begin to make it seem fair, couldn't make it make sense.

He shifted against the pile of crap against his back and took another swig of JD.

"You're wasting time."

Dean started, and choked on the liquid burning it's way down his throat, and now, thanks to Castiel, into his lungs. He sputtered and coughed, and when he caught his breath, he realized he was just slightly more than miffed, and didn't feel like talking at the moment.

"Get lost." Dean said, his voice harsh with inhaled liquor. Cas wasn't the only one who could be an ass.

"Confining Sam-"

Dean glared up at the angel. "No. Not-uh." He got to his feet and faced his once almost-friend. "You don't want to help me; you won't tell me what you know? Then you don't get to say two damn words about Sam. I'm taking care of it."

Cas' eyes were darker now. Less vibrant. And that bugged the hell out of Dean, because whatever does that to an angel can't be good. And really, he just wanted to know what happened to his angel, but he'll be damned - well, more damned - if he's going to crawl around doing God's bidding after all of this. After what God did to one of His own angels, for crying out loud. How was he supposed to trust and have faith in that?

Dean held the bottle at his side, and shook his head at the angel. "What the hell happened to you, Cas?"

Castiel's eyes narrowed slightly. "Do not call me that."

Dean's head rocked back. "What? Cas?"

"It's not my name."

Dean scowled. "Well, maybe I should call you Jimmy, since that's the name of the guy you're wearing." He'd never asked about the vessel, what his story was, but now he knew. And he didn't understand how a man could pray to be used like that. How he could just willingly leave his family behind. Had Jimmy known that when he said yes, that it was forever. Literally. Castiel had said Jimmy wouldn't die. "Do you even care about those people back there? Jimmy's family? I mean, what? You're just gonna use him up? Someone's going to win this War, and he can't go back, even if it's us?" He waited for Castiel to say something. To drop his gaze, look quietly regretful, like he used to. But it never came. The angel just stood there, arms loose at his sides, gaze unwavering. "What the hell'd you come here for? You don't have anything to say to me, right? _Go_ _away_."

He half expected the angel to try and explain to Dean how it was Jimmy's choice, and Jimmy had known the deal. His old angel would have. This angel didn't feel the need to let Dean in on anything.

Castiel's voice was heady with power. "There are things that need to be done."

"So go do 'em." Dean spat back, and then took another swig. He grimaced as the liquid made its way down, his throat was still hurting from earlier.

"Things that you need to do."

"Nah." He shook his head. "No thanks."

"You don't wish to listen."

"I wish for a lot of things, _Cas. _Like, for you to tell me what I asked to hear." He shrugged. "You know, for instance."

The angel worked Jimmy's jaw, pressed Jimmy's lips together. He was starting to get irritated, and Dean knew it was probably wrong to feel it, but he was glad. "You can't just walk away from this, Dean."

Dean, thinking it would be a smooth way of showing his resolve, started to walk towards the angel and then past him, saying over his shoulder, "Watch me."

"We're not here to clean up your mess, Dean." Castiel said in a cold voice.

Dean froze in mid-step. His shoulders tensed, his jaw clenched, his breathing hitched, and he could feel heat rising in his eyes. _That _was an amazingly low blow. Something Cas never would have said to him, never would have even thought about using against him.

He closed his eyes, taking a moment to collect himself, before he turned back to the angel. Castiel was standing just as he had been, except now his head was infinitesimally cocked to the side. "I thought it wasn't blame that fell on me." Dean couldn't keep the bitterness from his voice. "Anna said they _dragged _you back. So, tell me again, who's the fuck-up here?"

That got a reaction from the angel. Castiel's hands clenched into fists. But all he said was, "Confining your brother won't stop anything. It's too late. And you have not nearly finished your work."

Well, Sam wasn't getting out of the panic room, and he sure as hell wasn't getting anymore demon blood. Dean was going to save his brother, and _that fact_ wouldn't be changed by the opinion of God himself, let alone His angels.

"What happened!?" Dean demanded. "You didn't go without a fight, Cas. I saw that place, it was _demolished_. So whatever you had to say to me, I'm betting it was big. The Cas I knew wouldn't hide something like that from me, he'd tell me. He'd help me."

"I'm here to make sure you do what you're destined to do. Noting else." Castiel replied.

"I don't buy that." Dean walked back toward the angel. "Who did it? Why? I mean… look, I know you don't answer to me, but you wanted to tell me. You were freaking out when you came to me, Cas. I've never seen you like that. You _wanted _to tell me."

"Do not call me that." The angel repeated. Dean thought he almost heard a silent _please_ there, but he was probably just being hopeful, because there was no trace of _please _on his face or in his eyes.

Early on, Dean had been weirded out by Castiel's complete lack of facial expressions. Then Cas had started getting more in-tune with the way things were on Earth. He'd started to show emotions. Dean didn't think that was as terrible a thing as Uriel seemed to think, because hey, Anna was an okay chick, and Dean thought that concern and care were good looks for Castiel.

Now the angel looked even more strange and out of place. Maybe it was because he wasn't blinking.

"Don't make yourself suffer more than is necessary, Dean." He said.

Dean dropped his head back, and stared at the sky. "Oh, God. Bite me."

"Enough of this."

The eldest Winchester looked back at what was supposed to be his angel. He took another drink. "I just don't get it. Why… It just doesn't make sense to me."

"I'm not _asking _you to understand, Dean. I'm _telling_ you to accept it."

"You're _telling_ me? Maybe you should have tried asking, probably would have gotten you farther. I don't do _tell_ well. Cas knew that." Dean turned on his heel and walked away.

He turned a corner, and started walking back towards the house. He was guzzling the JD as he walked, only partly trying to keep an eye on the ground. All he needed now was to trip and have a bottle of liquor shatter in his face. He made it past about six towers of old cars and twisted metal before he rounded a corner and had to stop short. Castiel was standing in his path.

He lowered the bottle, and gave serious thought to kicking the angel, because right at that moment Castiel was a piece of something-or-other in his way. Instead, he said, "Whatever it is, I'm sure it can wait. Mostly because it's going to have to."

Castiel replied, "Difficulties are a part of life, Dean. You have to deal with them."

"Yeah, you know all about life, huh?"

"Have fa-"

Dean held up a hand. "If you say have faith, so help me God, I will deck you."

"No. You won't." Castiel said.

Dean looked at the ground and closed his eyes for a long second. "Right, well, anything else you'd like to say before I tell you I don't care?" He looked back up and waited for a response. Any kind of response. Nothing. "Then you can just be quiet now and leave me alone." He started walking again, leaving the angel behind him.

He was more than half way back to the house, and he'd fully expected Castiel to show up again. He didn't.

Dean was standing at a crossroads of sorts. The old cars weren't really fashioned into rows; they were just piled here and there. Tall, tarnished silver and red brown heaps. Dean stopped in the midst of about five piles close enough together to make a real path.

He listened to the night. To the wind whistling through the old shells of cars, through weeds growing all over. He listened to the crickets and the skittering of the odd animal rummaging around the scrap yard. He was really listening for the rustle of wings.

He wasn't sure he'd hear them, even if Cas did come back. It had seemed lately, that when the angel showed up, he just showed. No rustle of wings announcing himself, just poof, Castiel.

Dean stood, and he waited for it. And it didn't come.

He chucked the bottle of JD as hard as he could into the nearest heap, and watched the glass and brown liquid explode out.

He dropped down to the dirt, sitting cross legged. He put his elbows to his knees and his head in hands. And he sat like that. Alone.

* * *

Has anyone else noticed that about Cas? When he shows up now you don't hear that sound like wings? It was really noticeable in 'Monster at the End…" when Dean prayed. Or maybe I just missed it, but I'm pretty sure it didn't happen. Hmmm…

Well, review anyway?? =D

If you guys like this, I might do a Cas POV, I kind of have an idea for it.


	2. Castiel

Took forever, my apologies. Enjoy. I did a bit of editing, so tell me what you guys think. It was a bit easier to write, now that I knew what Cas knew. =D I'm just happy to have old Cas back.

R&R Please.

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**LIFE'S A MESS**

He kept it close, held his tongue. He listened when his brothers spoke, head bowed, but he couldn't make himself go back to the way he had been. There was no forgetting Dean Winchester. And everything Castiel had experienced and learned since taking human form, he bundled together and held in the core of his being. He could keep it safe there.

He hid it from his brothers and sisters. He had no illusion that he might hide it from God, but even that knowledge couldn't make him release this new part of himself. Castiel was scared. He didn't want to Fall, and he didn't want to disappoint, but he didn't want to do wrong either. And he worried, because there was so much going on, and Jimmy would be defenseless until Dean found him. If Dean found him.

Castiel was hurting. Because he knew, when he made it back, he would have to treat Dean differently. Even if his… feelings… hadn't changed, the others would be watching much closer now. There was too much at risk, and it pained him to know that Dean would not understand his change in behavior, and that he could not explain it.

Castiel felt a seed of anger at the situation growing in him, and that, more than almost anything, scared him.

~*~*~*~

"Cas wait," He turned at his name. "What did you want to tell me?" Dean asked with wide eyes.

The information is important. Life altering. World altering. And he wants more than anything to aide his charge in his mission. To tell him that Lilith… But he's been forbade, and he knows better than to cross that line again.

"… _dire consequences, Castiel." they whispered. "Things we don't wish to visit upon you."_

So when he spoke, he did it with deliberate coldness. He forced a look of disparity into his eyes and said, "I learned my lesson while I was away, Dean." Away, like it had just been a trip home and back. He'd have laughed if he'd known how. "I serve Heaven. I don't man, and I certainly don't serve you."

And then he turned his back on his charge, not quickly enough to avoid the look on Dean's face. Walking away, it was all Castiel could think of: the way Dean's eyes had narrowed and widened almost imperceptibly. They way his shoulders had dropped and his head slid back. Dean had been confused at his words. Taken by surprise. And the angel could do nothing for his charge.

He couldn't even offer a hand of comfort that he knew the boy would need after seeing his brother feed on demonic blood. Even Castiel had not been prepared to see Sam doing that. Sam would never know, nor Dean, but seeing the younger Winchester smeared with tainted blood had… hurt. It reeked of Castiel's failure to guide one man to save another.

His orders had been in regard to Dean, and Dean alone. But he'd come to learn that Dean did not come without Sam. And somehow Castiel had gotten it into his mind, that while not strictly his orders, he could save Sam, too. Clearly, he'd been wrong. Sam was lost and Dean would most certainly be harder to work with if Castiel was to act as he been told.

"_Distance, Castiel," they said, "is necessary."_

To Castiel, distance translated to coldness. And in his eyes he felt that made him look as Uriel must have to the humans. Untrustworthy. A liar, someone working against them. But he would do it. They were his orders, and God's Will was not something he had the right to question.

It bothered Castiel to treat him in such a manner, because Dean didn't deserve it. But he could not make the same mistakes, and if that meant that Dean had to be kept in the dark about some things… Castiel would have to work around it.

He had learned a hard lesson. He would keep to himself, share his thoughts with none. He would do as he'd been told, and try to see that events unfolded as they should. In the favor of God and good and righteousness.

He knew he still had Father's love. And though Castiel had never seen Him, his faith would sustain him, but there was still the nagging of what Castiel assumed to be aloneness. He had learned that not all his brothers and sisters could be trusted. Truly, he had known this since Uriel had tried to kill him, but he felt more betrayed now then ever.

And he would work in quiet dedication to save his home, those siblings who still deserved to be there, and the Winchesters. Even if they hated him as he did so.

Castiel had been taught he needed to learn to lie, and hide to do what was right. That was weight he found to be nearly crushing.

Heaven hadn't realized it's mistake yet, and when they did, Castiel feared it would be too late.

Dean had relied on him. Dean had put trust in him. Dean had put Faith in him.

And he'd certainly just been made to ruin it all.

~*~*~*~

He left Dean with no where to go, and no choices. So when Dean headed for Bobby Singer's, he followed.

Castiel had given no advice on the issue of Sam, hadn't told Dean he had to try and save him, because he didn't really think there was a way now. Sam would begin to go through withdrawal, it would be brutal and taxing and most likely deadly.

He hung back in the shadows, watching.

They locked him in Bobby Singer's basement. He picked the words from Dean's mind - _panic room._ Castiel was grateful that at least Dean had Bobby. The older hunter knew his business, and Castiel trusted the man to be there for his charge in the ways he wanted to be, but couldn't anymore.

Any emotion he allowed to slip onto his vessel's face now, could spell disaster.

He watched Dean, dejected and heartbroken, wonder from the house in the dead of night. Castiel breezed past piles of refuse as he followed the human's path. He watched as Dean drank, and lashed out at things in his way.

Watched as every emotion he knew the name of broke through what was left of Dean's defenses. As pain and anguish streaked through Dean's eyes, and stayed there. Even in Hell Dean had not looked so distraught. Castiel wanted nothing more than to go to Dean and offer words of comfort. To tell him what was coming and that he would do what he could to help the brothers. But he couldn't.

He doubted the words would leave his mouth before one of his superiors came for him.

But something had to be done. Dean couldn't wallow, time was wasting, and perhaps Castiel could find a way to inform Dean without stepping beyond the boundaries others had drawn for him.

He stepped forward as Dean took another drink. "You're wasting time."

Castiel winced at the noise that Dean made as he struggled to catch his breath. He hadn't meant to startle him. He opened his mouth to apologize but thought better of it. He couldn't afford emotion. Dean couldn't afford it.

Dean looked up at him. "Get lost." was all he said.

He deserved it, he'd dismissed Dean just as easily earlier, but it didn't change anything. Castiel had hoped that Dean's anger would temper his own feelings, possibly make him care less what the human thought of him. Instead it just hurt. He'd grown accustomed, if not fond, of the almost backhanded trust and friendship.

"Confining Sam-" Even as he said the words, Castiel could see in his mind the end coming, the world razed at the hand of a Winchester.

Dean cut him off. "No. Not-uh." His charge ambled to his feet, brown liquid swishing dangerously close to the lip of the bottle holding it. "You don't want to help me; you won't tell me what you know? Then you don't get to say two damn words about Sam. I'm taking care of it."

Only he wasn't, but Dean didn't know that. He didn't know Castiel's orders. Sam would be allowed to reach a state of derangement, of such need that he would abandon even Dean for demon blood. And Castiel would be the hand to allow his escape.

"What the hell happened to you, Cas?" Dean looked at him with such pleading hazel eyes.

"_You appear to be easily influenced by this human," they said. "We don't have to allow your return." _

Castiel narrowed his eyes, this too, was something he would have to discourage. While he'd taken to the nickname, it was not proper. It was a sign of affection, not respect, and Castiel could not allow his brothers and sisters to see him answer to it. "Do not call me that."

He had to say it, had to take even that away from Dean. He was going to take everything from his charge - every sense of security and perceived friendship that they had, Castiel had to destroy. It was safer for them both that way. Castiel could maintain his station and Dean would not have a dozen other angels looking into his life from time to time to make sure the human wasn't… compelling Castiel to disobey.

The human looked confused. "What? Cas?"

"It's not my name." He hated the look that Dean gave him, but kept his own eyes hard and cold.

"Well, maybe I should call you Jimmy, since that's the name of the guy you're wearing." Dean said. Castiel knows that it was Jimmy's choice, always Jimmy's choice, but he can't make Dean understand that. And he doesn't want to try. Dean continued, "Do you even care about those people back there? Jimmy's family? I mean, what? You're just gonna use him up? Someone's going to win this War, and he can't go back, even if it's us?"

In all honesty, Castiel hadn't given much thought to the fate of the vessel's body. The man, Jimmy, would of course be rewarded with Paradise. When that may be, only time would tell. There was much work to be done on Earth, and his vessel was well cared for, his family however, was of little consequence. Though, Jimmy's daughter may be called on in the future.

Dean sneered at him. "What the hell'd you come here for? You don't have anything to say to me, right? _Go_ _away_."

Castiel didn't have time to play these games. He couldn't tell Dean, and that was something both of them would have to get over. "There are things that need to be done." He put a sense command into the words.

Dean's response was immediate. "So go do 'em." Then took another drink of the alcohol he'd taken from the house.

Castiel watched Dean's face, noting the pain it caused him. It wasn't something the angel understood-people doing thing to themselves that they know to be damaging. "Things that you need to do."

"Nah. No thanks." Dean shook his head, and looked away from the angel.

Dean knew what was at stake, he didn't know how much of what would be lost belonged to him. Castiel knew. "You don't wish to listen."

"I wish for a lot of things, _Cas._" He emphasizes the nickname, throws a little anger behind the word, and Castiel presses his lips together in irritation. He wished again that Dean could know. That he would make it easier for them both by going with the new rule Castiel had laid before them. "Like, for you to tell me what I asked to hear." Dean shrugged. "You know, for instance."

"You can't just walk away from this, Dean." He can feel annoyance pressing in on him. He wants to leave, get away from Dean, away from all the things his charge represents. Away from all the things he'd become since pulling Dean Winchester from Perdition.

Without so much as a word, Dean started walking towards him, and once past he shouted over his shoulder, "Watch me."

Castiel had to make Dean stay, had to get him to do his duty, achieve his true potential. And if he had learned one thing about the oldest Winchester, it was which string to pluck to get his attention. He would respond in anger, but he would stay, and he would talk.

So Castiel told him, "We're not here to clean up your mess, Dean."

He froze in mid-step, as Castiel knew he would. Dean's shoulders tensed, and Castiel could hear the change in his breathing. He'd struck a low, painful blow, he'd been remiss to use that particular piece of knowledge against the man. He knew how guilt had hammered Dean to a crumpled shell when he learned of the first seal, and a broken Dean was not what they needed. But he was turning back to Castiel even now.

Castiel remembered the look in Dean's eyes when he'd told him he could throw him back in Hell, it hadn't bothered him at the time, and he didn't mean to frighten Dean, but the point needed to be made. They weren't friends. They were… co-workers. Dean didn't have to like Castiel, he would learn to deal with that fact, but Dean did have to do what he was destined to. And getting Dean to tread the correct path was Castiel's job.

He titled his head to the side and waited for Dean's response. "I thought it wasn't blame that fell on me." It was fitting that the hazel eyed man would throw Castiel's own words back him. "Anna said they _dragged _you back. So, tell me again, who's the fuck-up here?"

Castiel felt fingers curl into his palms. He'd been taken Home because he'd dared to help Dean, because he'd learned a truth, and wanted to tell all those concerned. He was dragged Home because he'd wanted to help humanity. Some times he wondered why.

"_Any number of brothers and sisters," they smirked, "would apply to replace you, Castiel."_

It didn't matter at this point. He lowered his voice, stripping it of any lingering emotion. "Confining your brother won't stop anything. It's too late. And you have not nearly finished your work."

"What happened!?" Dean demanded. His demeanor changed, and a bit of pleading came back into his hazel eyes. "You didn't go without a fight, Cas. I saw that place, it was _demolished_. So whatever you had to say to me, I'm betting it was big. The Cas I knew wouldn't hide something like that from me, he'd tell me. He'd help me."

Castiel didn't bat an eye, didn't let Dean in on anything. "I'm here to make sure you do what you're destined to do. Noting else." he replied.

Brown liquid sloshed against glass as Dean pointed a hand at him. "I don't buy that." he said, taking a few steps forwards. "Who did it? Why? I mean… look, I know you don't answer to me, but you wanted to tell me. You were freaking out when you came to me, Cas. I've never seen you like that. You _wanted _to tell me."

He knew that was true. He'd been haggard in Dean's dream. Sorely out of place on the dock in the heavy glow of a setting sun. He'd been frightened, and rushed, and had needed Dean to _know. _But things were different now.

"Do not call me that." was all he said, softer than the first time. Dean was looking at him in such a way, that Castiel knew the human would simply not let this go until he got the answers he was searching for. "Don't make yourself suffer more than is necessary, Dean." Because he wasn't going to learn anything for Castiel.

Dean's head dropped back on his shoulders. "Oh, God. Bite me."

"Enough of this." Time was important, so very important, and it was wasting.

He watched as Dean took another drink and with a shake of his head, said, "I just don't get it. Why… It just doesn't make sense to me."

That was not Castiel's concern. Dean wouldn't have to understand, not until later, until it was to late for him to do anything that mattered. "I'm not _asking _you to understand, Dean. I'm _telling_ you to accept it."

"You're _telling_ me?" he looked at Castiel, and he wanted to look away. Dean's eyes would haunt him, he knew, but he had to hold his ground. He couldn't be the angel who had sense enough to look away when being confronted with… a human's disappointment. "Maybe you should have tried asking, probably would have gotten you farther. I don't do _tell_ well. Cas knew that." Dean turned on his heel and walked away.

Castiel waited around a corner for Dean to approach. When his charge rounded the corner of a pile of old automobiles, his face twisted in a grimace as he lowered the bottle from his face. "Whatever it is, I'm sure it can wait. Mostly because it's going to have to."

He knew that Dean was having a rough time. That things with Sam had taken a terrible turn, that no one had really seen coming, but that could not be allowed to lead them astray. The fight must continue. "Difficulties are a part of life, Dean. You have to deal with them."

"Yeah, you know all about life, huh?" His voice is thick with anger and Castiel knows he's trying to taunt him into giving something away.

It won't work, so he said instead, "Have fa-"

Dean held up a hand. "If you say have faith, so help me God, I will deck you."

"No. You won't." Castiel said.

Dean dropped his gaze, and stared at the dirt and gravel ground. "Right, well, anything else you'd like to say before I tell you I don't care?" He looked back up, but Castiel said nothing. "Then you can just be quiet now and leave me alone." He started walking again, and this time Castiel let him go.

There was no talking to Dean right now. He'd come back later, when Dean needed him and was willing to finally listen. Because that time was coming.

"_So do as _we_ say, not as Winchester asks."_

* * *

Thanks for reading!!! I hope you liked it! =D


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